“It’s lonely in a cold, dark, desolate cell, don’t you think? They all say I’m insane, delusional, or, my personal favorite, a madman!” He started cackling. “Now I know we haven’t known each other very long, but you don’t really believe that, right?” There was no response. He started screaming, “ANSWER ME! DO YOU THINK I’M CRAZY? DO YOU? DO YOU THINK I AM A MADMAN?” He was cackling, but he stopped and stared at his stagnant friend. But only a second later he laughed wildly again as he told his idle buddy, “I remember now, walls don’t talk! Silly, silly me!” And the wall gave him no response.

In a sudden moment he stopped laughing. He sat pale and unmoving, cold and dismal, and most of all, completely insane. He thought back to what he’d done, who he’d hurt. He remember going to a park and seeing dumb, gullible children singing one of their little lullabies. He began to laugh again as he said out loud, “Yes, Mary had a little lamb.” He giggled a little. “A perfect lamb to slaughter.” His insane laughing continued, until he fell completely silent on a moments notice again.

He began to sing Mary Had a Little Lamb, but a rendition you would never hear form a child’s lips. “I have killed so many things, many things, many things. I have killed so many things, like children in a park!” He began to cackle wildly, and that laugh was the sound of evil. He continued his song through his laughing. “I have held many things in my hands, dying things, no one understands.” His face fell pale again, and he was nothing more than a man awaiting death.

“I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all.”